Only The Wind Knows
by Gentle Breezes
Summary: One-shot Torn-centric. Torn thinks about the little sister he used to have. No child in this world is born completely innocent from the start, but the moments they do have in their innocence are indeed, sweet.


**Disclaimer: **Let's think about this for a second people. If I said that I was the one to create the Jak and Daxter games, and not Naughty Dog (the rightful creators), I'd most likely have droves of people plotting my demise within minutes of my posting this.

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><p>There is nothing as beautiful as innocence, Torn thinks as he watches his sister stretch her hands out as if to embrace infinity, the wind of the desert tearing through her hair and carrying her laughter. No child born in this world is born purely innocent, having to cope with the harshness of the desert or city each day of their lives. But perhaps because of that, he ponders, the moments they have in their innocence are so much sweeter.<p>

"Torn?" she asks, snapping the older teenager out of his reverie as he realizes she's standing right in front of him.

"Hm?"

"Where does the wind come from?"

He knows she's too smart to ask that question. She loves books more than anything, so she knows the answer. But he also knows that she loves hearing his explanation. He smiles, inviting her to sit beside him on the rock he's perched on.

"Well...to begin with, lots of people say that the wind comes from past the sea near the mountains," he started, running a hand through his unruly reddish-brown hair. "As for what exactly causes it, there are a lot of explanations."

Fearing he wouldn't go on, she scooted a little closer. "Liiike?"

He tried to mask his grin with the stern face he'd been acquiring more often of late, but he could never manage with this little one around. He sighed, faking annoyance, but it just made her grin more as she clung to the fabric of his sleeve and looked up at him in anticipation. "Well, some people say that the wind is made by giant birds that live on islands in the middle of the ocean where no one can see. These birds, made by the Precursors themselves, are said to be so huge that they could carry 20 people on their back. And their feathers are soft as clouds." She bit her lip in excitement. He could practically see the images floating in her eyes. "Some others say that each gust of wind is caused by a mermaid's song."

"A mermaid's song?"

"Yes," he said, making an exaggerated sagely nod to play along. "They live in huge caves carved out by the ocean. When they sing, it's the most beautiful thing you could ever hear. That's why the wind sometimes has a voice."

"I see!" she said, her eyes bright.

"And each song travels over the ocean, carrying itself through the land to gather sounds from the world so that when it arrives back at the cave, the mermaids will know what is happening in other places."

"Anything else?" she asked.

"Hm..." He pretended to think for a moment, and she giggled. "There is _one _more, but I'm not sure you'd understand," he teased.

She mock-frowned. "Tell me, or else."

"You and what army?" he asked, pretending to get up.

"No, don't go! Tell me!"

He sat down with a laugh, almost falling over as she tugged on his sleeve. He shook his head, giving hers a pat before he relented. "Some people say that the wind isn't caused by any of those things. They say that the wind represents a tiny part of the planet's consciousness. Each gust starts out by rising from the ground; cold, small, and vague. But with each place it travels, it grows warmer and fuller until it races through the land with a smile on its face, carrying its memories wherever it goes. That is also another reason why people hear the wind whisper or howl, because it tries to talk to us. And when it returns to its home back in the ground, finally able to rest, it can tell the Earth about the journeys it had."

She sighed and smiled. He didn't know why such a young kid would find such a tale so fascinating, but she always liked hearing this one especially. She suddenly sat up, her eyebrows knitted together in confusion.

"Torn? Where does the wind go home to?"

He slowly smiled, standing up. "Only the wind knows," he said, ruffling her hair. She let out a huff, pouting over the mystery before he spoke again. "Now, can you tell me where _you _think the wind comes from?"

She smiled, clearing her throat as she sat up with an air of importance. "Wind is the motion of air molecules, resulting from the change in high and low air pressure – "

"Oh, be quiet you smart aleck," he said, grinning as he snatched her up to carry her back toward the gate the led to Haven's outer edge, the air full of her giggles. She still continued to shout her explanation into the air, laughing with him as he carried her on his back.

"The changes in the highs and lows generate the wind we experience! Isn't that amazing Torn?"

He'd always remember that day. Even when he'd be fighting for the Underground and people died all around him, when more quiet moments prevailed he would think about that day and his sister's innocence. Guilt would grip his stomach as he thought about how on that day he'd promised to always be there for her. His family had decided to flee to the desert, seeing they had no chance for a happy life here. But here he was, in this city made of metal and oppression, fighting for the freedom of people he didn't know. And out there, somewhere in the desert, his sister was probably by herself. Maybe she would be reading a book like she always used to, or maybe she'd be looking at the stars, eyes squinting as she tried to pick out the constellations he used to show her. Sometimes he'd look up at the sky and wonder if she hated him for leaving her alone, or if she'd moved on instead of thinking of her big brother. Thoughts like that hurt him worse than some physical injuries did, but he knew he couldn't blame her for that. He's the one who stayed because he took a chance on this city; because he saw in this city something that needed defending.

Ultimately he doesn't know what she thinks for sure. He doesn't even know if she and the others are still alive. He guesses, smiling wryly and sadly as he runs a hand through his dreadlocks, only the wind knows.

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><p><strong>Author's Notes: <strong>Welp, I finally did it! I caved and made something strictly non-canonical. ...And by strictly non-canonical I mean **way** off the charts going in the opposite direction, outside of the general plot and all that nonsense. I don't usually stray from canonacy just because I feel like I'll screw up and write something idiotic (perhaps its already obvious to you after reading 8D), so this is uncharted water for me. And, I apologize of Torn seems a little out of character. I guess that's just another thing that comes along with the package of a story like this. *laughs*

Hmm, I tempted to expand on this concept, just because the thought of Torn having a little sister is...unconventionally adorable to me. I must think this over.

Anyhow! I'd love to hear what you have to say about this! Even if it's just one word, shoot me a review because it will help me determine whether I should just take this baby down or not. Anything and everything concerning your opinions is welcome! Oh, and thank you for reading. *ceremoniously bows* Have a pleasant day/night.


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